


As Winter Ends, Spring Begins

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Rituals, Stormlands Culture, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-17 19:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: Stannis participates in an old stormlands ritual.





	As Winter Ends, Spring Begins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



"You will come tomorrow night, naturally." 

From anyone else, Davos would have taken this to be an assertion of lordly dominance, but from Stannis, it made him smile. It was almost romantic. Not that Stannis would ever have been comfortable with that characterization. 

"I would be happy to, my lord." Davos shifted on the bed, watching as Stannis pushed the window open as wide as it would go into the early spring night. After a long winter, they deserved a breath of fresh spring air. Here at Storm's End, the air was fresher than it was in the capital, and Davos was pleased to be by the sea. 

Stannis crossed the room and sat on the bed, reaching for the curtains.

"Oh, please," Davos said. "Let us have a bit of air."

Stannis paused. "All right." He lay down heavily and Davos reached over to take Stannis' hand. He knew Stannis wouldn't be amenable to talking too loudly, much less anything else, with the window open, but he wanted to show him some silent affection.

Stannis responded by brushing his finger over Davos' palm. "It is a foolish tradition." His voice was low, and though Davos suspected there was no one beneath their window, straining for snatches of conversation. Stannis would never take such a chance, not with his upbringing. "But the people expect it."

Davos wasn't completely clear on how highborn stormlanders welcomed the spring—the common men he'd known in ports like Weeping Town preferred getting drunk and very few had spoken of going to the great castle to watch the lords play their mummer's farce. 

The fact that many of these men had fallen easily into bed with Davos was not the only major difference between them and the man whose bed he now found himself occupying. To get Stannis into bed had taken much coaxing and the longer Davos spent around Stannis' kind, the more he understood why. It had been a shock to come into a world where it mattered so much who you slept with. 

"And I'd like to see it," he murmured sleepily. "I want to know what you've been practicing all this time we've been here." 

"You will," Stannis said, sounding resigned. "You will certainly see it."

Davos smiled. He could tell when Stannis was trying to conceal his nervousness. He slid closer on the bed, squeezing Stannis' hand tightly. There was a slight rustle on the sheets as Stannis leaned over and kissed his forehead. After that, he lay back but Davos could tell he didn't sleep. 

**

Stannis was up at first light, sitting at the window seat, watching a lone cog make its way to the mouth of Shipbreaker Bay. He felt unsettled having Davos here, in the room he'd occupied before leaving Storm's End. The hangings on the wall were the ones he had grown up with, the old storm kings he had studied as a child when he couldn't sleep, when he'd waited for a lightning flash to illuminate their fraying faces.

It was not odd that Davos shared his bed, he knew, especially not in winter. Nights were cold and it was not out of the ordinary to have a servant or retainer in bed. What _was_ out of the ordinary, and which Stannis was fully cognizant of, was that he had Davos in his bed for more than warmth. 

He tried not to think too hard about that. He had always believed he could give Davos up as easily as he'd dispensed with any other of Robert's vices that were ill-suited to him. Now he hated the very idea of thinking of Davos as a vice. 

He paused to pull the blanket up over Davos' shoulder and close the window. He wanted a taste of early-morning sea air before his performance tonight. It had crossed his mind that Robert might have asked him to play winter only to stage a battle Stannis was to lose, but it did not bother him as much as he'd expected it to. 

Once within the dark calm of the godswood, Stannis felt more at ease. He had always preferred the godswood to the sept, especially after he had determined the septon had nothing to say that made sense. It didn't mean he believed in the Northern gods, but he at least felt the heart tree had no deep-seated objections if he enjoyed Davos' company more than was perhaps prudent.

He settled on an unusually flat rock he had always chosen as a lad when coming into the wood with a book. It had the benefit of being high enough to escape the damp of the ground, while also being deep enough in the wood that Robert usually would not come that far just to make sport of him. 

And what sport he would make if he knew about Davos. Stannis leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. The rock had once seemed much higher; he remembered his feet not touching the ground as he pored over the book in his lap. 

"There you are."

Stannis looked up, jerked from his reverie. It was not Robert, come to shove him into the mud, however, but Davos, holding a pile of biscuits. 

"Good morning," Davos added, making his way across the clearing. Stannis moved over to allow Davos to perch on his rock. "Breakfast?"

"Thank you." Stannis took a biscuit from him and nibbled at it. 

"This is nice." Davos leaned his head back, gazing up at the trees above them. "Though I thought you might have favored the sea side of the castle."

"This is more private." 

"I can see that." Davos slid closer, munching on his own biscuit.

They ate in silence for a while, Stannis enjoying the moment. Yes, this was more than an infatuation, more than the septon had ever implied such relations could ever amount to. 

As if he could read his mind, Davos, having finished his biscuit, rested his head on Stannis' shoulder. "You don't hear these birds in the capital, that's sure."

"Aye." Realizing he'd been holding himself too stiffly, Stannis relaxed. He put his hand on Davos' knee, which was soon covered by Davos' own. 

"Are you nervous?" Davos asked him.

"No." Better to deny on it than dwell on it. "You will be watching me?"

"Aye."

Stannis kissed him. "Then I will not be nervous."

**

Davos spent the rest of the day exploring Storm's End, something he'd had precious little time to do on his prior visits. He was ignored by most who passed him, a development that gave him no distress. He was used to being passed over by both lords and servants, caught between the two groups as he was.

As night fell, he found his anticipation was growing. He joined the crowd in the great hall, pushing his way to the front for a better view. The tables had been moved to the sides of the hall, allowing the spectators to crowd close to the empty dais. The hall was lit by only a few torches, the flickering light putting Davos in mind of a forest, dark and old. 

Just as he was beginning to wonder when it would all start, there was a drumbeat. A hush fell over the crowd, who all clearly knew what to expect. At the second drumbeat, a figure leapt atop the dais. 

The man was swathed in a fur cloak and his face was covered by a mask topped by a pair of enormous antlers. He carried a staff nearly as tall as he was and Davos realized abruptly that this was Stannis, and that he could tell because he was bare-chested and bare-legged, wearing only a short kilt. He swallowed hard, conscious suddenly of how well he knew Stannis' body. 

Stannis banged the butt of his staff on the dais and looked round the hall. His face was barely visible beneath the fearsome stag's head, but Davos could see his eyes, burning blue. Stannis moved more fluidly than Davos had ever guessed he would; he'd often known Stannis to interact with the world stiffly and awkwardly as though he was afraid he was too tall for it. Now, Davos found himself entranced as he moved across the stage, swinging his staff about. 

Then the king entered to a subdued sound from the crowd. Davos realized he didn't know who exactly standing beside him was highborn or lowborn like himself. They were standing too close together and it was too dark. 

The king was made up to be a young buck, and while his antlers not as impressive as Stannis', it almost seemed believable that he was the only one of them in the prime of his youth. They circled each other slowly, neither taking his eyes off the other as though this were a real conflict. Davos wondered how often they'd rehearsed this in the weeks since the royal party had arrived at Storm's End.

Robert struck first, his staff audible as it swung through the air. Stannis deflected it, though their two weapons never actually made contact. Stannis deftly pivoted away from each of Robert's exaggerated strikes, though he never made any himself. Davos wondered if the choreography was the same each spring or if the brothers had created their own. 

At last, the plan demanded Stannis give it up. He took a step back, dropped his staff, and fell to his knees. The crowd erupted with a roar, and Robert plucked a young lady out of the crowd, naming her maiden of spring. As the onlookers surged around him, Davos fought his way to Stannis.

"A good performance, my lord."

Stannis looked down at him, blue eyes stern and forbidding behind his cowl. Davos felt a surge of desire. There was something primal about him and Davos did not want him to remove the mask and headdress. 

"It went as it was supposed to," he said. "Skill mattered not. It was no different from when my father and my mother's brother performed it last spring."

"Your presence was commanding nonetheless." 

There was the barest hint of a smile on Stannis' face. "I held your attention?"

Davos nodded. 

And he did. Davos watched Stannis throughout the feast, all through which both brothers remained in their ceremonial garb. Robert was his usual self as Davos had observed him at feasts, loud and boastful, paying court to every woman except the queen.

Stannis was silent as always, alone among all of them, and Davos could not draw his eyes away, especially when Stannis raised his head to meet his gaze. 

Davos shivered uncomfortably on the bench. Perhaps he had other plans in mind for tonight than had been his wont while they were away from the safety of Dragonstone. 

Davos was accustomed to Stannis leaving feasts as early as possible, but he seemed to be lingering over this one, perhaps to better torture Davos. He stayed even after the queen had retired, rising at last when the company at the high table descended for the dancing.

In the crush, Stannis came first for Davos. 

"Are you ready to retire, Davos?" 

Davos' answer was to stand, not wishing to spoil the moment by speaking.

The music and voices faded behind them as they passed from the hall. As soon as they were in darkness, Stannis stepped closer, making Davos' heartbeat quicken. He had not dared hope for this, however much he had wondered if Stannis' usual routine might be affected by the evening's festivities. 

"I am glad my performance pleased you." 

Davos let his gaze sweep over Stannis. He had not even removed his headdress, though it had to be an encumbrance. 

"You watched me the entire time."

Davos shivered unbidden. "Aye. I did."

He was suddenly conscious of Stannis' proximity, how he was actually wearing very little. Stannis' hand brushed Davos' cheek and before he could quite realize what was happening, he had kissed him. 

At once, all of Davos' mind was flooded with thoughts—the things Stannis usually worried about. They were in the stairwell, barely out of the hall. And Stannis wearing only…that. 

"My lord—"

"Is that not the night for this, Davos? The first night of spring?"

Davos was breathing hard, his gaze fixed on Stannis. "If you say so, my lord."

They moved very slowly, pausing often to kiss. This forbidden taste of Stannis was all the more exquisite now. Each time Stannis made to remove his headdress, Davos pulled his hands down. His mouth was still accessible, and that was the most important part. 

They had only one close call, on the stairs when they heard someone coming up behind them. Stannis pressed Davos into an alcove and they stood, bodies molded together as the voices grew louder. 

It proved to be the king and the bannerman's daughter who had been designated maid of spring. If they noticed their presence, they gave no indication, but after they had passed, Stannis led Davos straight to his bedroom without pausing.

"I am sorry if I was too imprudent," Stannis said, sweeping the antlers off his head. He was himself again, albeit now wearing naught but the kilt Davos longed to remove. His hair was mussed and damp with sweat, his eyes dark with desire. 

"Not at all," he managed.

"I am not my brother." 

"Of course not." Davos smiled slyly. "I'm most pleased about that, my lord."

"But I don't want—" Stannis paused, as though gathering his thoughts. "I don't want him to rule my life. If he discovers us, so be it. How does that suit you, Davos?"

Davos smiled. "It suits me just fine. You know what I think of it."

"Very well then." Stannis closed the distance between them and Davos thought no more on serious matters.


End file.
